


my love is an anchor tied to you

by sabinelagrande



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Coitus Interruptus, DOESN'T ANYONE EVER KNOCK, Developing Relationship, Dorian Pavus's Shitty Past, Feels, Happy Ending, Iron Bull Is a Good Bro, M/M, Necklace of the Kadan, Rough Sex, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dorian were half as confident as he says he is, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my love is an anchor tied to you

One thing Dorian will never tell anyone, from the grand and ever-expanding list of things Dorian will never tell anyone, is that he and Bull didn't have sex on the first night.

It's more comforting to pretend it's always been sexual, though Dorian doesn't know why. Maybe the story sounds better if he made Bull work for it, prove his worth in bed before he could have anything else, but that's not what happened. Dorian wasn't too drunk and he wasn't too tired and he had no other excuse. They just kissed, long, slow kisses that made Dorian feel more calm than aroused. He expected Bull to push it, ask for more, but he didn't; Dorian fell asleep like that, stretched out over Bull's broad chest.

He'd never done it before. Maybe he just wanted to see what it felt like.

The second night, however, made it difficult to walk for two straight days. Somehow, that was easier to handle.

\--

It's honest, the way Bull looks at him. There's no hesitation, no equivocation; Bull looks at Dorian like he means to fuck him. Dorian expected to hate that sort of treatment- and he does, sometimes, when Bull is being particularly loud about his intentions- but there's something appealing about it. It's like there's no possibility in his mind of being ashamed of Dorian, as if it's an entirely foreign concept. He seems proud that Dorian is his, like Dorian is something to be shown off, not concealed.

Dorian's not ashamed of Bull. He knows that he could be. He hates that about himself.

\--

He knew Bull had predilections, and while Dorian was unfamiliar, he was not unreceptive; good thing, too, because Dorian likes it much more than he anticipated. Tonight, Bull is showing him yet another variation, one that starts with Dorian's wrists bound to the headboard, leather straps to anchor him. He needs it, because instead of fucking him, Bull is working his way down Dorian's body, torturously slowly, kissing and sucking; he's barely gotten anywhere, but Dorian is already writhing underneath him, trying his best to get everything he can. Bull, damn him, isn't letting him get away with it, barring Dorian's stomach with one big arm, making him take exactly what he's given.

"So pretty," Bull says, kissing Dorian's chest. "My pretty mage."

Dorian feels ill all of a sudden. He wants to tell Bull to stop; Dorian may say it about himself as a joke, but historically, men who called him pretty wanted something from him he didn't want to give. That's all he's been for far too many of them- pretty, delicate, almost as good as having a woman.

"So strong," Bull says, running his hands up Dorian's arms. That might actually feel worse; Bull's caught him, knows what Dorian's not saying. "Always forget how nice all these muscles are. You wear clothes too often."

"You're telling me what I want to hear," Dorian says, shutting his eyes and willing himself not to be upset. He can't summon it right now, enough venom to hide it; it makes him feel exhausted.

Bull doesn't respond for a moment, but Dorian feels him sitting up. "I'm not going to tell you what you _don't_ want to hear," he says, like Dorian is being a bit dense.

"I don't like it when you lie," Dorian says, his hand clenching and unclenching.

"Can Vints tell the truth with their eyes open?" Bull asks.

Dorian snorts. It's not at all a compliment, but for some reason, it makes him feel better. "If you ever meet one who looks you in the eye, be suspicious."

"Even if you had no muscles at all, you'd still be strong," Bull says, calm and steady, like there's absolutely no doubt in his mind that it's true. He wraps his hands around Dorian's hips, fingers digging in. "You're certainly strong enough to give me a good fight."

"Is that what you care about?" Dorian asks, relaxing. When he opens his eyes, Bull is looking down at him with a smirk on his face, and Dorian has to admit that it makes him look incredibly attractive.

"I care about a lot of things," Bull says, shrugging. "When you're writhing underneath me, it's one of my top concerns."

"Let me go," Dorian says, twisting exaggeratedly in his grip, and Bull, thankfully, recognizes it for what it is.

"That sure didn't sound like a watchword to me," Bull says, gripping Dorian's hips tighter and pinning him to the mattress.

Dorian is enormously grateful when Bull gets things back on course. He doesn't need to think about anything that used to happen. He doesn't need to deal with it. It's better to have this, just Bull holding him down and fucking him, letting him get out of his own head for a moment.

He's much more grateful for the fact that Bull never calls him pretty again.

\--

Bull is like an uneven heel on a new pair of boots. When first you notice, it's an annoyance, something you can't unfeel, a constant difference in pressure. Sometimes it's all you can think about when you walk; other times, you forget about it for hours. The more you wear them, the less it seems like a problem. It feels like the boots were always meant to be like that. Maybe soon they're your most comfortable pair, and you never even think about what's wrong with the heels at all.

The problem is that by the time you've come to that point, there's no turning back. If you were to fix it, to make things as they were supposed to be in the beginning, the shoes would never fit again.

Dorian hasn't explained this to Bull. Even if Bull understood, he'd probably use it as evidence that Dorian is far too focused on clothing; he's been known to use that as an excuse to get Dorian out of his. Of course, now that he thinks about it, Dorian wonders why he hasn't explained.

\--

"We're going to be late," Dorian says, though he makes no attempt to move. He has his legs wrapped around Bull's waist, and Bull is thrusting into him sweetly, unhurriedly, making every stroke count; there is nothing outside this bed that matters at all.

Well, unfortunately there are things outside this bed that matter, including a meeting that they're due at very shortly; it's just that right now, they do not matter to Dorian one bit.

"Do you care?" Bull asks, amused.

"Maker, no," Dorian says, his head tipping back. "I just felt like somebody should say it."

Bull laughs, a low, rumbling chuckle that Dorian can feel moving through his own body. It feels good, in a way that Dorian can't quite explain; he reaches up and grabs on to Bull's horns, pulling him down and kissing him. Bull makes the same appreciative noise that he always makes, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Whatever it is, Dorian likes it, likes hearing it, likes eliciting it, likes how it makes Bull speed up, pushing into him that much harder.

They're both getting close, and Dorian welcomes it, the chance to fall over and drag Bull with him. It's only a shame that they don't have more time; Bull's gotten him used to sessions that go on and on for hours. Dorian has learned to live with being sore, because it is a small price to pay.

There's a knock at the door, and Dorian freezes; before he can figure out a suitable strategy, the door opens. If it were just one person, he could work through this, find a way to get rid of them and save at least a little bit of face. But no, half of the fucking Inquisition has apparently decided to show up and barge in.

Dorian's heart is racing; he thinks one of them might have said something, but his pulse is beating so loudly in his own ears that he can't tell. He could do a thousand things right now. He could push Bull off of him- well, he could try, anyway- and say Bull took advantage of him. He could say it's not what it looks like, as transparent and feeble of a lie that is. He could claim it's just a dalliance, an idle diversion, nothing at all.

In the moment, his annoyance outruns his good sense, and he just shouts, "Do you fucking _mind_?"

Josephine is openly staring, and the Inquisitor looks like she's going to die laughing if she stays any longer. Cullen doesn't say anything, just looks a little green and leaves in a hurry.

"I suppose not," Cassandra says, and the look on her face almost makes up for the whole thing. "We will see you shortly."

"Don't count on it," Bull says, smiling. Cassandra looks extremely unamused, but leaves anyway; the Inquisitor gives them a thumbs up behind her back, shutting the door as she goes.

Dorian sighs heavily. "That is _not_ what I wanted."

"They already knew," Bull says dismissively.

"They thought you were kidding," Dorian counters, even though now he's not sure if it's true.

"Why would I kid about you?" Bull says, smoothing his hand over Dorian's hair, and Dorian almost twists away, unable to take it. "The Chargers know."

"That, I am very aware of," Dorian says. He expected different treatment after they found out he was fucking their leader; he was not expecting back-slaps and congratulations on, quote, "taming the Bull."

Dorian didn't tell them that, on the whole, the fearsome Iron Bull was fairly tame already.

"It's okay, kadan," Bull says, bending down to kiss him, but Dorian turns his face away.

"Don't call me that," he says, shutting his eyes; Dorian knows it's a mistake, but he meant to make it.

Bull stops dead, tense above him. "And why not?" Bull asks; Dorian expected sadness, hurt, and he doesn't know what to do with the anger he hears instead.

Dorian fully intends to say something to push him away, something which will cut him badly enough to make him finally understand that Dorian is not worth it.

"I haven't earned it," is what comes out of his mouth, and he instantly wishes he could take it away, hide it again.

Bull rolls off of him; Dorian readies for him to leave, but suddenly Bull gathers him up, holding him tightly. It actually hurts a bit, but Dorian can't bring himself to let go, much less push him away. Dorian's not crying, thank the Maker for small mercies, but he feels shaky, fragile, like he'd break if someone hit him the wrong way.

Bull doesn't say anything for a long time, just holds Dorian to his chest; Dorian's so grateful that he doesn't ask for an explanation, because Dorian would not be able to provide. Finally, Bull kisses his hair and asks, "Would you like to?"

\--

Sometimes Dorian thinks about what his father would say.

That's a thing he thinks about more than he'd like to admit, actually.

It's bad enough that his son likes men, so much so that he'd throw away his life in Tevinter rather than grit his teeth and marry. His son likes _Qunari_ , which is even worse. And Dorian would stand in front of all Tevinter and say it, tell all of them how much he loved it, how strong Bull was, how big, how he'd do it again in a heartbeat, only louder and harder this time.

In Dorian's head, that's the part where people start retching and tearing their clothes, but Dorian has a bit of a flair for the dramatic.

In the light of the morning though, with Bull stretched out beside him in bed, that seems like such a waste, so cruel to Bull, so dismissive of everything this is. Although it would be momentarily satisfying, he'd probably regret it for the rest of his days.

\--

The weight of the necklace is unfamiliar- a dragon is very large, and a mage is comparatively quite small- but it's not worse than any other large amulet or pendant one might wear. The part that's annoying Dorian is that, despite his best efforts, the surface of it is uneven, enough so that it scratches against his chest under his clothing. Iron Bull is apparently having no problem with his own, even though he's essentially topless; then again, he is a Qunari. They're not known for their fragility.

"You're going to cut yourself," Bull says, obviously noticing. "It used to be part of a dragon. No matter what you do to it, it's going to be sharp."

Dorian sighs. He's never actually worn it openly before, doesn't know if he can. But now Bull is looking at him like he can see right through him, like there's a right and wrong answer, which Dorian already knew.

"Fine," Dorian says, tugging the necklace out from inside his clothing. He smooths it down against his chest, self-conscious of it, but like always, it feels good in his hand. "Are you happy now?"

"Much better, kadan," Bull says, resting his hand on the small of Dorian's back. It's on the tip of Dorian's tongue to protest, but he swallows it down. He lets the word sink in instead, lets himself have the comfort of it. Bull's heart is enormous- figuratively, but probably literally too- and Dorian doesn't know if he could fill all of that space. Bull acts like there's not a chance in the world that Dorian's not up to the task; it makes Dorian feel like he just might be.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] My Love is an Anchor Tied to You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124048) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton), [SomethingIncorporeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal)




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